Just a spoonful of sugar......

I am not a fan of theme parks. We live opposite one and I will go to some lengths to avoid actually going there myself. In London we lived close enough to Windsor for Legoland to be a day of annual sufferance in my calendar. Here, each time we drive to the airport the familiar outline of Mickey Mouse's head looks down at us from the motorway signage so it was only a matter of time before the subject of Hong Kong's Disneyland was raised in our household.

Our seven year old has recently turned eight. Rather than have a party organised by his embarrassing parents he asked if we might go to Disneyland instead. As the appointed day came closer, I began to grit my teeth in anticipation.

Reality was suspended the moment we drove through the gates. With no prior warning we had entered a vast landscaped world of manicured grass and monumentally straight palm trees which lined our route to the car park, a space so curiously empty of cars that we began to wonder if Disneyland was in fact closed for renovation. A few others arrived so we followed them to the main gate along the neat brick paths, with wrought iron railings, fountains, topiary and quaint buildings lining the way.

Tunes from Mary Poppins were playing and the children began to sing and skip along to the music. I looked around, half expecting Dick Van Dyke to come and shake my hand as the whole place started to look more and more like Cherry Tree Lane. The noise and dirt and skyscrapers of Hong Kong were a million miles away and we had been magically and inexplicably transported to a fantasy place like, well like Disneyland, I suppose.

We were greeted by helpful attendants who smiled so much that the pain of parting with vast amounts of cash was forgotten. Ahead of us was a flower bed reproduction of The Mouse's head on a grassy bank which rose to a picture perfect railway station. And blow me down if a huge, new, shiny red steam engine didn't pull up with perfect timing and whistle at us to clamber aboard.

In a state of disbelief we wandered down Main Street USA looking at the small-town white clapboard shops full of Disney merchandise, cotton candy and apple pies. The air was full of the sugary smell of toffee flavoured popcorn and Donald Duck waved to passers by from the porch of a house. I was prepared to laugh, think How cheesy! and endure, and yet to my amazement I found myself admitting it was rather well done, not in the least bit tacky, clean, shiny and well-organised and all presented in surprisingly good taste.

Agog we headed for Cinderella's Castle, rode on her fantasy carousel with crowds of giggling Chinese men, flew with Dumbo and in Adventureland took a river cruise on a steamer through the jungle where we were sprayed by elephants, frightened by piranhas, shot at through blow pipes and roared at by the Fire God. Then we climbed up to visit Tarzan's house which I was convinced was built in a real tree. Duh! Nothing here is real, Mummy! Cynic that I am, I was beginning to enjoy myself and was wowed by the special effects. The animals were life-like and all was completed with astonishing attention to detail.

We had our photos taken with Mickey and friends, were charmed by Minnie's antics and hugged by Pluto, spun in cups at the Mad Hatter's tea party and saw the most incredible 3-D film of Donald which had us all ducking (ha, ha) to avoid the objects that flew out of the screen at us at high speed. We moved on into Tomorrowland and went on a space mission instructed by Buzz Lightyear to shoot down space robots. It was such a blast that the six of us ran back round to the entrance to do it all again. The cold had kept the masses away so there were no queues and we were able to climb straight back in to our space cars and ride once more.

As the fireworks lit the skies above Cinderella's Castle and we walked back down Cherry Tree Lane to soothing farewell Disney tunes I found myself wondering if an annual pass might not be a sound investment. The children were wide-eyed with wonder, tired and happy with all they'd seen. And I, having expected the worst could only admit that I had had the most brilliant time.